


love thy brother

by apolliades



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abuse, Anal Sex, Blood As Lube, Brothers, Choking, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Finger Sucking, First Time, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Minor Violence, Oral Sex, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Rimming, Rough Sex, Sexual Experimentation, Sibling Incest, Spit As Lube, Twincest, Twins, Unsafe Sex, Zombie Apocalypse, aka Insufficient Lube, mentioned animal death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-11-05 13:41:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11014563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apolliades/pseuds/apolliades
Summary: they’d broken into papa’s whisky cabinet once. a couple of years ago, when they were teenagers, when their curiosity had been strong enough to make them persevere through the liquor’s harsh taste just to see what the secret was all about.the feeling of being drunk still hadn’t come close to how it felt to watch jared unravel above him. he’d take the latter a hundred times over, given the choice. every single time.





	love thy brother

**Author's Note:**

  * For [barium](https://archiveofourown.org/users/barium/gifts).



> i feel unclean after writing this lol. please heed the warnings in the tags. both characters are 18 & i kind of share custody w/ @mobsun. this is his fault too.

Everything was golden here. The evening sunlight through the half-open hatch above, setting the hay ablaze with light. Jared’s hair, like straw. His eyes like earth. Earth was caked under his nails where they dug into Jesse’s throat. The pressure was starting to turn the barn into an aureate haze; he mustn’t have been able to breathe right for minutes now. He didn’t know why Jared bothered squeezing quite so hard. He’d’ve opened his mouth for him anyway. 

Jared pulled out with a grunt and Jesse wheezed, and remembered the calf that was born too late into last year and died of an infection in the lungs making a sound just like that. The association was sudden, and strange. 

A thick bead of spit rolled out of the corner of Jesse’s mouth. He caught it with his tongue, then sat up, dizzied by the heat and the lack of air, and wiped his chin with the back of his hand. Jared had been sitting across his chest, and stood over him now with a hand shoved down his pants and a scowl on his face. He’d caught the sun; his cheeks were pink under a dappling of freckles.

“Why’d you stop?” Jesse asked. His voice scratched in his throat. His tongue felt thick. “You ain’t done.” 

Jared kicked him in the leg. “You ain’t doin’ it right,” he snapped. His hand was working in his pants. There was a damp patch spreading slowly into the fabric, right by the zipper. Jesse wet his lips. “It ain’t workin’.” 

“What’re you talking about?” Jesse reached for his hip — Jared swatted his hand away, irritated, like he would a horsefly. “What d’you mean I ain’t doin’ it right? What d’you want me to do?”

He was trying to sound annoyed. Argumentative. Like of course it should be working, Jared’d had his dick right down his throat, almost all the way, and Jesse had hardly even gagged once, and he’d sucked and licked just how he knew made it good. And Jared had been making all the right sounds. All the right faces, too. Hunched over him cursing and snarling with his eyes shut tight, saying all kinds of terrible things the likes of which their father would beat him black and blue for if he’d said ‘em in the house. Jesse twitched to picture it. 

But he knew his voice came out plaintive instead. Needy. _What do you want me to do_ became an invitation, became anything Jared could put to him. 

“C’mon,” he said, letting his tone soften a little. “Come back here.” He put his hand to Jared’s thigh, and when this time it wasn’t smacked away slid it up, over the sharp swell of his hipbone, under his rucked up shirt to his narrow waist. Jesse tugged at him, wanting, and Jared went. He bestrode Jesse’s ribcage, a knee either side, pressed just tight enough so that he could feel his ribs curving under the pressure. One hand was flat on his chest. The other was still in his pants. Jesse took him by the wrist and pulled it out, put it to his lips instead. 

His fingers was sweat-damp and salty on Jesse’s tongue; he tasted of dust and soil and skin, musky and slightly sour, bitter from where they’d been wrapped ‘round his dick. Jesse touched him there, too. Made his grip tight, jacked him off hard and quick with his fingers in his mouth ’til Jared broke their staring match to close his eyes, turn his face a fraction to the side, ’til he was pushing up into Jesse’s fist with sharp little jackrabbit thrusts. His mouth hung open. His lips were wet. The sunlight caught his spit and made it gleam.

“Tha’s it,” Jesse murmured, as Jared’s hand slipped from his mouth to wrap instead around the base of his throat, as his grunts heightened in pitch, as his face twisted. “C’mon.” 

He chased his brother’s orgasms with almost more fervour than his own. His own took less chasing, usually, anyway — most of the time he spent so long getting Jared off first that by the time it was his turn he’d be ready to come in his pants after half a minute of grinding against his hip or his thigh or his palm. But then it wasn’t really like it mattered much who went first. Jared just had some kind of knack. The way he looked at him, maybe. The way he’d sink his teeth into Jesse’s shoulder as they rutted against each other, or twist his wrist just a little too hard, or hold him down with an arm across his throat; the way he’d drag his tongue over the inside of Jesse’s teeth. It was intoxicating, having Jared on top of him, looking up into his mirror-image and finding the same face with a different expression written across it. 

-

They’d broken into Papa’s whisky cabinet once. A couple of years ago, when they were teenagers, when their curiosity had been strong enough to make them persevere through the liquor’s harsh taste just to see what the secret was all about. They’d both found themselves drunk in a heady, stomach-flipping rush, ending up hot and heavy-limbed, blurry and staggering, clinging to one another just to stay upright. Kissing for an hour straight in the hayloft because they’d been too giddy to do anything else. The feeling of being drunk still hadn’t come close to how it felt to watch Jared unravel above him. He’d take the latter a hundred times over, given the choice. Every single time.

He wanted to take it now.

-

“C’mon, J—” 

Suddenly, the world shifted. Jesse found himself turned onto his stomach with a thud, all the wind knocked out of him, starbursts in front of his eyes. Jared’s knee was pressing into his spine. For a moment he could do nothing but lie there reeling, choking on the dust the sudden movement had stirred up, his thoughts all thrown out of order. 

And then he twisted, and squirmed, reacting instinctively to being pinned by trying to buck his brother off. They scuffled in the hay for less than ten seconds before Jesse gave in; Jared had his arms twisted behind his back, both of his wrists caught in one hand, and a knee between Jesse’s thighs, nudging them roughly apart.

“What’re you—” Jesse could barely open his mouth to speak with the angle he was being crushed into the floor. There was dust on his tongue. Dust in his eyes, in his nose. The smell of hay, everywhere. “Jared—”

“S’not enough,” Jared was muttering. His voice was a growl. Jesse could feel the brush of his hot damp breath on the back of his neck. It ran the length of his spine — his hips lifted on some unwilling instinct. “Not fucking enough.” 

Jared’s thin rough fingers were scrabbling at the waistband of his pants. They were already unzipped, Jesse’d done that ages ago to take off some of the pressure, and they came down pretty easy. He wasn’t wearing underwear. It hurt to suddenly have his cock dragged against the hard floor of the barn and he yelped at the spike of pain, canting his hips up to try to get away, tears springing to his eyes. Jared grunted, and shoved him down harder; released his wrists to grab the back of his neck instead and trap his face against the wood. 

“What’re you doin’,” Jesse croaked, struggling to breathe with his face crushed down like that and his lungs full of dust and his jaw aching from the bad angle. He could taste blood in his mouth. Must’ve bitten his cheek on the impact. “Jared—?” 

“Gonna do it proper,” came the answer, if it could be called an answer, in a voice rough with exertion. Jared was moving over him, though it was hard to tell exactly what he was doing — trying to wriggle out of his pants without letting Jesse up. Kicking off his boots with a _thunk, thunk._ “An’ you ain’t gonna move, are ya,” Jared’s weight shifted above him, then lowered, as he slotted himself in between Jesse’s spread legs. Forced them further apart, which hurt; he felt something pop in his hip, felt the awful friction of his dick on the wood again and whined. It was remarkable he was still hard. “You’s gon’ stay nice an’ still so’s I won’t gotta tell Papa what you was doin’ with them rotters.”

Jesse trembled. That wasn’t fair. That had been both of them, both of them doing something they shouldn’t. It’d even been Jared’s idea, he was sure of it. Shifting up that girl-rotter’s skirt just to get a look at what was under there since they were boys and they were young and they had questions that wouldn’t nobody answer. It’d been a mistake. What they’d found hadn’t been anything pretty. They’d chopped her up and fed her to the pigs like the others.

-

But Jared could tell Papa whatever he liked and Papa would believe him and give Jesse a hiding that would have him hurting to sit down for a week. Jesse wondered sometimes whether Papa really did believe what Jared told him sometimes, or if he just looked for reasons to punish him. 

-

He didn’t say anything. 

All of him shook. Jared had let go his wrists but his arms just lay weakly as they’d been left, fingers curled. His hips were lifted slightly. His face was the lowest part of him, cheek rubbing against the ground, one eye forced shut. Jared had his hands on Jesse’s hips now, lifting them up a little higher, and even though he was no longer being held down by the throat Jesse didn’t try to take advantage to throw Jared off. He lay still, as he’d silently promised, his only movements tiny twitches to try to relieve some of the ache in his head. At least the pressure was off his fucking dick now. 

He heard Jared spit. Into his hand, he guessed, since one had left his hip — he could feel him rocking slightly as he stroked himself. Jesse was still shaking, with the pain in his muscles from being held in this position, with the anticipation of not knowing what Jared had in his head. He hated not knowing. They almost always knew each other’s thinking, except in moments like this. In moments like this, rolling in the hay together, Jesse somehow felt further and closer to his brother than he ever did, all at once. 

Jared spat again. This time it hit Jesse — landed wetly on the seam of his ass and trickled down. It made him jerk, surprised. He wanted to ask what the fuck he was doing but he didn’t dare try to speak. Jared leaned lower, and Jesse felt the sudden wet slide of his cock against his ass. It was soft and smooth but it made him jolt. Why the fuck was Jared touching him there, he thought. Out loud he whispered _what the fuck_ into the floorboards, but he could barely even hear himself, over both of their laboured breathing. It wasn’t that Jared had never touched his ass before. Hardly. He grabbed him there plenty, to drag him about or pull him into his lap or give him a smack.

But not like this. Not spreading him like he was doing now, digging his fingers into the meat of his ass and running his thumb over—

“Ah!” 

The sound was startled out of him in a moment of shock and pain combined. Jared’s thumb was in his ass. Dry and rough, and it hurt, in a way Jesse didn’t quite know how to process. He’d never had anything put _in_ there before. That wasn’t what it was _for._ Jared made a brief sound of displeasure and pulled his thumb out again. It hurt just as much, made Jesse whimper as he felt his muscle constrict. _What the fuck,_ he gasped again, but if Jared heard him, he ignored him. 

Another glob of spit hit him, with startling accuracy, right where Jared’s thumb had just been. He rubbed that spot again, but this time the spit took away from the pain. It almost felt nice, in the strangest, wrongest way. Jesse tried to steady his rabbiting breath. With one palm flat against the floor Jesse braced himself as Jared pushed his thumb in again, and used it to stretch him. He was pulling at his hole. Seeing how far he could force it open. The pain was focused and unique, and Jesse’s face was wet now with a stream of tears. Jared spat again and replaced his thumb with his first finger. 

It slid into him with surprising ease, but the way it felt— the way it felt was indescribable. It hurt. It _burned._ It felt rough and raw and wrong and Jesse keened weakly, trying to crawl forwards on his knees even though he’d promised not to because every part of him was telling him to get _away._ Jared dug his nails hard into the flesh of his hip and snarled at him to be still. He spat again and jabbed his finger deeper into him. Pulled it out, spat again and added another, thrust them in deep and spread them, forcing his hole to stretch wider with them, wider than he was sure it was supposed to go. Jesse sobbed. Splinters from the floorboards were digging under his nails where he scrabbled for purchase. 

Jared snapped at him to shut up. He sounded breathless. Without having to look Jesse could perfectly picture his face, scrunched up with concentration, mouth twisted down. “Shut up, or I’ll tell Papa.” Jesse bit his lip until he felt it split under his teeth.

Because he was the oldest, by a whole three and a half minutes, Jared had this idea in his head that his cock was bigger, too. It wasn’t true. Jesse and he were identical down there as well. That was just a fact, and it wasn’t as if they hadn’t measured and compared plenty, to make sure. But just now, as Jared was forcing it inside of him, huffing and grunting and bruising him with his grip, it felt huge. Impossibly so. Too thick to fit into such a narrow space, such a tight hole. Even with Jared’s spit and sweat and pre-cum to make him wet, it didn’t feel like enough. It felt like being split in two. And it was endless. Agonising. 

When Jared finally bottomed out he made a low, heavy groan, like an animal. Jesse couldn’t breathe. It was like he could feel it in his stomach.

“This is how it’s s’posed to be done,” Jared breathed, and lay a hand flat on Jesse’s back, pushing up his shirt. His palm was damp as it smoothed the length of his spine. Jesse whimpered. “This is… th…” 

Jared began to move in him, and it became a blur, after that. At first the pain of it was too much to process. He thought he might’ve blacked out, or perhaps for a while his soul left his body. His limbs became so weak that when Jared let go of his hips Jesse fell forward, taking his brother down with him, and Jared swore and smacked him on the back of the head, and shoved his legs further apart again and fucked into him harder. 

He wasn’t sure exactly when it began to feel good. He wasn’t sure if _good_ was even the right word for it. But there was this spot inside of him, this place. It was like a trigger. Jared’s cock would drag over it or nudge against it and he’d be hit by a bolt of heat that would make stomach flip and his toes curl. He found himself — pushing back, despite the pain. Rocking up desperate to seek out more of that heat, that good feeling that was almost-not-quite enough to overcome the hurt. Jesse was crying in earnest. Muffled choking sobs lost to the wooden floor. And he was hard. Achingly hard. Painfully. 

Jared cried out when he came, sounding broken, and went almost still, save for the shuddering of his hips, the pulsing of his cock that Jesse could _feel_ right deep inside of him. He collapsed onto Jesse’s back, hot and heavy and limp and panting for breath, and stayed that way for a minute, cock still buried in him, softening slowly as Jesse’s fucked-raw hole twitched sorely around it. It hurt when he pulled out — it had to hurt Jared, too, at least a little, because Jesse felt him flinch. Jesse lay there on his stomach, ears ringing, stars in his eyes, trying to remember how to breathe. Something warm and wet was trickling between his legs in wake of Jared’s cock — when he found the energy to put his fingers there they came away sticky with come that was tinged pink. Blood, he realised, dimly. Pink with his blood. 

With a heavy sigh, Jared lay himself down next to Jesse, on his side, facing him. Almost-not-quite nose to nose. His face was flushed, sheened with sweat. Slowly he reached out, wiped away a smear of blood from Jesse’s lip, and smiled at him. In the dim evening light, he was glowing. 

“Did you finish?” he asked, softly. His voice was still ragged from breathing so hard. Jesse shook his head weakly. Jared’s touch was gentle on his cheek, his jaw, stroking a tender spot on his neck where his nails had raised welts earlier. “Here,” he said, “Turn over.” 

It hurt a little to lie on his back, but it would’ve hurt no matter what he did, because every part of him ached, now. So he did it anyway, and Jared pushed his legs apart again, bent low, and this time he put his mouth on him. Jesse was exhausted, but the sudden flicker of Jared’s tongue over the chafed skin of his hole still made him jolt, made his breath catch in his throat. Jared was licking him clean. Licking up his own come like Papa’s dog licked the marrow out of the split bones they fed him on. It felt strange. It felt _good._ Jesse dared to curl his fingers into Jared’s dusty hair, loosely, and for once Jared let him. He moaned, soft, and felt Jared grin against him. 

Two minutes of that, and when Jared finally put his hand on his dick Jesse wailed, and came just like that, with all the force of a blow to the stomach. The aftershocks hit him for what felt like ages after. He was dizzy. Above them, a sparrow flew in a flurry to its nest in the rafters. Sitting back on his haunches, Jared was wiping his mouth with his sleeve and laughing at him. 

“You’s always so damned easy,” Jared said, sounding smug and cruel. Jesse felt his face burn, and closed his eyes, like it would help. “How come’s you always do what I tells you?” He leaned in closer again, loomed over him to speak right into his ear. “How come’s I only gotta touch you for a minute and you—”

Jesse shoved him to make him shut up, and Jared laughed harder, and gave him a kick in the ribs as he stood. With his face on fire and his eyes closed tight he listened to Jared move around, put his pants back on and find his boots, and tried not to start crying again. 

“Git up an’ get that cow milked, Jess,” Jared was telling him, as he did up his zipper, tucked his shirt in. “Papa’s gon’ be home soon. You wouldn’t want us gettin’ in trouble, wouldya?” 

When Jesse finally opened his eyes again, Jared was standing over him, holding out a hand. Jesse stared at it for a moment. He didn’t want to take it. He didn’t want to get up. He was in pain. All he wanted was to lie there, preferably forever. He could still feel the ghost of Jared inside him, of his nails tearing his skin, of his fingers bruising his throat. 

“Boys!” The both of them glanced up. It was their Mama’s voice, coming from the house, somehow feeling further away than usual. Jesse looked back at Jared. Jared wasn’t looking at him. “Papa's home! Get in here and leave each other alone!” 

Jared looked down at him again. “You heard Mama,” he said slowly, and there was a nastiness in his smile that made Jesse’s insides feel cold. “Get up.” 

-

It hurt to sit at table for dinner that evening. Every time he shifted the pain was worse, spiking through him, making him clench his teeth not to whimper. When they joined hands to say Grace, Jared squeezed his fingers a little too tight, and Jesse felt a flicker of resentment towards him. Of hurt. But he still crawled into Jared’s bed that night, after the sun had set, after Mama and Papa and the baby were all asleep. And Jared still kissed him, lazy and slow, after they said their prayers, and before they said goodnight. 

“I love you, Jared,” he murmured, as they drifted, curled up together nose to nose. “I do.” 

“Shut up, little brother,” Jared told him, tugging him a little closer by the waist. “Go to sleep.” 

“Say it back,” Jesse insisted. His eyes were closed. Their foreheads touched. “We’re one now, in the eyes of the Lord, y’know. So you gotta say it back.” 

Jared didn’t say it back. He was already asleep.


End file.
